Entirely Erwin

My Friday Night Part II: Self-Destructive Behavior

This is the thrilling finale of Erwin's recount of his Friday night. To recap what has happened so far (Odd Todd would be so proud):

1. Multiple glasses of whis-kay
2. Beck-ay, Buff-ay, Stace-ay and Sush-ay
3. Plot to take over world discover-ay

At this time I still hadn't felt the effects of the above driving from Antarctica back up to the North Pole. But for some friggin reason, I couldn't form any words singing along with the radio in my car. Granted, I don't know the words to very many songs; I usually utter a sound that can be understood as the last word to each line of a song's lyrics. But if people saw my stellar singing performance in the car on Friday, they would think it was downright entertaining...in a comedic, not musical way.

In Carl's house one second and out with the ambiguously gay duo (Carl and Eric) another second. I'm still not feeling the nauseating effects of Becky's wrath. The three of us are having a good time in the car as Carl drives. Still not feeling anything. At this time, I was thinking "Hah, hah, Becky, I am much man for your evil wrath." And then it happened, Becky pushes her wrath button...

I like to think of myself as a patient person who lets things unfold before making a decision. But when you're in the middle of downtown Chicago looking for parking, it's every driver for themself, unless you want to waste all your overpriced gallons of gas driving around in circles. And if you're the drunk passenger in the backseat of a car getting even more car sick because the driver can't find parking, patience is thrown out the window. A split-second decision needs to be made whether to spew in the car or out of it. Luckily for Carl (mainly because the noose he has around his neck would be transferred to around his sac...after the world's strongest magnifying glass is created to find it) , I made the executive decision to calmly exit the car in the middle of an intersection and attempt to exorcise myself along the sidewalk of the whiskey demon that inhabited me.

I wouldn't have had a problem letting it out. But it's disturbing when someone is attempting to photograph you in the middle of the act. It's even more disturbing when you're hunched over a lamp post about to spew when you look across the street and see that it's your friend trying to capture the Kodak moments. Needless to say, I didn't vomit - sorry, Eric, I'm camera shy when it comes to things like that.

Carl eventually found parking and we were on our way to babysitting bar hopping on Rush Street. The cold Chicago weather sobered me up a little, I thought. I thought wrong. We walk into Dublin's and I was pretty gone. I do remember taking this picture though.



I also remember Carl and I talking to the table next to us when we were about to leave. We learned that women pretending to be school teachers aren't allowed to have pictures taken of them at bars for fear that the pics would wind up on some porn site like www.fatalysis.blogspot.com. Go figure.

I was pretty much Bernie from the movie, "Weekend at Bernies" after we left. We ended up going to Bar Chicago to watch Carl stripper dance and Alumni Club to inspect their washrooms. Even though Carl and Eric only had one beer apiece, I do question how sober they were that night. So I stalked a guy selling Valentine's Day balloons for half a city block. But I'm not the one who wanted to hump a taxi cab *cough, Carl* or stumble and fall on our way back to the car when the night finally ended *sneeze, Eric*...

And that concludes the "bad part" of my night, which really wasn't all too bad. Actually, hanging out with Carl and Eric, I would say this is pretty typical. Good times, good times....